Maddening
by Caitlin51
Summary: Spike knows that he can't be what she needs - he is a creature of darkness and she is the Slayer. He tries to keep his distance, but there is always something drawing him to her. Spuffy.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I don't know exactly what this is, but I just finished watching Buffy for the first time, and now that it's over I feel the need to write… Anyway, I'm up to continuing this as a story/drabble series if people would be interested in reading, so let me know! Also, this takes place after the end of the TV series.**

**Enjoy =).**

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She was maddening.

Spike slammed his fist into the rough wall, barely noticing the pain of the impact.

She haunted him - the longer he stayed away, the more she entered into his thoughts. He couldn't shake the memories of her passion, her wit, the feeling of his lips against hers on that one last night they had shared before the most recent apocalypse. Before he had died. Again.

He knew that being here, being where she was, was a bad idea. Still, he was keeping his distance from her, just watching her from afar. It made him smile to see her in charge of all the newly activated Slayers, to see her confidence in her new role. However, the situation reminded him of when he had fallen in love with her years ago and was confined to watch from the outside, unable to be a part of her world. He hated that he was forced to be that silent observer again, to be her shadow, doomed to love but never to touch.

Logically, Spike knew that he could go to her. He would tell her about how he had been resurrected; they would have a good laugh and reminisce about the good old days back in Sunnydale before the destruction of the city, but then what? What place did he have in her life now? She had moved on, had found a new life for herself. And here he was, hanging out in a crypt in a cemetery that was nearly the spitting image of his old one back in Sunnydale.

This is how it was supposed to be.

He was a creature of the night; she was the Chosen One, the embodiment of good.

Spike punched the wall again, feeling the rough rock tear his skin. He didn't care. Compared to his emotional pain, the physical discomfort seemed inconsequential.

It was a bad idea to come back to her. But he had needed to see her, had needed to know that she was okay. And, even if he didn't want to admit it, there was something that drew him to her so strongly that it was impossible to resist.

She had said she loved him.

She hadn't meant it.

He raised his fist to attack the wall again, needing to express some of his frustration through the only means available to him.

A crash sounded at the entrance to the crypt, startling him. He froze and listened intently. With the number of Slayers wandering around, he wasn't too eager to run into the pointy end of a stake before he could explain about his soul. As miserable as his existence could be, he had tried the dying thing and it wasn't nearly as fun as it sometimes sounded.

He heard a moan of pain. Clearly, whoever was invading his space was injured.

With a sigh of frustration, Spike silently cursed himself for falling so hard for a human that he had to go get a soul with a guilty conscience that was currently telling him he had to make sure the intruder wasn't dying.

Stealthily, he crept towards the entrance, careful to keep to the shadows just in case the injured person had brought a healthy Slayer friend.

The sight that met his eyes nearly stopped his heart - in a figurative sense since his heart had stopped beating centuries ago. "Buffy?" he whispered before he could stop himself.

The figure looked up. It was unmistakable - the blonde hair, those beautiful eyes. It was her.

"Spike?" she asked weakly, her voice weak. Her eyes searched for him, but he could tell that the pain was clouding her vision. "Spike?"

"I'm here, pet." Spike rushed to her side, all thoughts of being cautious or staying away from her fleeing at the sight of her crumpled on the crypt floor clutching her side. "What happened?"

"You're dead," Buffy muttered. She was barely intelligible and he could tell that she was fighting to hold onto consciousness.

"Have been for a while," he joked lamely, hesitating before laying his hand on her arm, carefully moving it aside so that he could see her wound. Even the slight contact made him draw in a sharp intake of breath, remembering vividly the last time they had touched, the time when she had said those three words he had always wanted to hear. "It's a bad one," he told her, taking in the sight of the blood staining her tattered shirt around the stab wound in her side. "But you've had worse." The smell of her blood intoxicated him - he could always smell it, even through her skin, but it was stronger now.

"How..?" she tried to ask, her eyelids fluttering frantically to stay awake.

Spike chuckled, a forced sound, as he willed his face to stay human. "Didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you? We vampires are really good at…" he paused to pull off his black shirt and rip a strip off the bottom to use as a bandage, "...not dying. So are you, come to think of it."

She didn't respond. Glancing at her, Spike saw that her eyes were closed. He sighed heavily and gritted his teeth. Her wound, well it was bad and likely very painful, was nothing to worry about as long as he stopped the blood flow - her Slayer healing powers would take care of the rest. No, his reaction was born of the frustration of being here, of being with her, and still knowing that this was it. These were the only situations he would ever get to see her - in battle or in pain. Never in love.

With deft fingers, Spike treated her wound, carefully peeling the fabric of her shirt away from the stab wound and then winding the makeshift bandage around her torso. Despite the intense temptation, he restrained himself from touching her more than strictly necessary - he refused to take advantage of her. He wasn't that man, not anymore.

Then, the blood flow staunched, he picked her up carefully in his arms, holding her slightly away from his bare chest and trying to keep his thoughts far away from the sensation of holding her, of seeing her vulnerable like those night where he had held her as she slept. He put her down on the flat surface of the central tomb, and then, resolving to watch her all night in case she showed signs of further distress, he retreated into the darkness.

That was where he belonged.

…

Buffy felt herself slowly coming back to consciousness. With a groan, she forced her eyelids open, but immediately regretted it as waking up immediately reminded her of her fight from last night, the one that had obviously wounded her badly if she still felt this sore after a night's sleep.

The sight above her was unfamiliar - she was not anywhere she recognized. So, where was she?

Pondering that question, Buffy tried to sit up, but immediately felt a stabbing pain in her left side - it was fitting. After all, she had been stabbed. More carefully this time, she managed to swing her legs over the side of what appeared to be a raised tomb, her fingers gripping the edge as a reaction to the pain of moving.

She was in a crypt.

As soon as she realized that, memories came flooding back.

A vampire - a powerful one. Not as powerful as she was, but powerful enough to get a lucky shot in just before she staked him. Wounded, she had crawled to a crypt, a crypt that had reminded her of Spike's old place.

And Spike had been there.

Buffy frowned - that couldn't be right. Spike was dead. She had watched him die, watched his sacrifice. But she clearly remembered his touch last night, his words… Shaking her head, she forced herself to stop thinking about him, to move on. It was clearly the pain creating a state of delirium and making her see things she wished were true.

With a hiss of pain, she jumped down off the tomb, her hand automatically going to her injured side. Her palm grazed fabric - fabric coarser than the shirt she was wearing. Curiously, she looked down, her eyes widening as she saw the black fabric wrapped around her torso.

Spike.  
It was impossible.

Hardly daring to hope, Buffy looked around the tomb. "Spike?" she called tentatively.

There was no answer, and Buffy had to fight to contain her sudden flash of disappointment, even though she had known it was impossible. If he was here, he wouldn't be hiding from her. There had to be another explanation.

Moving carefully to make sure she didn't reopen her injury, Burry left the tomb, forcing herself to forget about Spike and to focus on everything she had to do.

The Slayer didn't have time to drown in emotion.

…

Spike watched her leave with a heavy heart. When she called out to him...it had taken everything he had not to respond, not to run to her side and take her in his arms and kiss her.

He wasn't the one for her - he knew that. But it still hurt to see her walk away.

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**Please review and let me know if I should write some more on this!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue this or not, but it got a surprisingly good reception so I decided that it couldn't hurt to write a bit more, since I definitely love Spuffy!**

**Enjoy =).**

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She couldn't shake it off, couldn't escape the feeling that she was missing something incredibly obvious.

Her friends had noticed her distraction over the last couple days and had mentioned it, each of them offering a listening ear or whatever she needed. She appreciated their concern - or at least she felt she should appreciate it - but there was nothing they could do. They didn't understand. None of them had killed their first love, driven their second away, and then watched their third sacrifice himself to save the world. Sure, they had experiences loss, but there wasn't a one of them that had felt the same depths of loneliness and hopelessness that Buffy felt. They didn't understand - they couldn't.

Ever since...well, everything that had happened in Sunnydale, Buffy had been distancing herself. Sure, she worked with the new Slayers, training them and honing their abilities, but she was never fully emotionally present even when she was physically there. It reminded of her of how she had felt after being ripped out of heaven - only half alive, like she was a sleepwalker just waiting to be woken into real life again.

Spike had helped her overcome that feeling the first time.

After losing him, Buffy had lost the will to care again. What was the point in making more friends, in being emotionally vulnerable? She was the Slayer, and she did what she had to do, and suffered loss because of it. Nothing in her job description said she had to care.

A crypt loomed in front of her, the large building eerily familiar. It was the same one from a couple nights ago, the one she had found when she had been stabbed. On closer inspection with a brain no longer clouded with pain, the facade didn't look nearly as identical to Spike's dwelling in Sunnydale as she remembered, but there were definite similarities and she could see how she could have easily confused it in the moment. Besides, it wasn't like crypt architects were terribly creative with their work.

Absently, her fingers found their way into her pocket and brushed against the strip of black fabric that had covered her wound. It was soaked in blood - her blood - but she hadn't been able to throw it out. Everything she had seen and heard that night...it was all impossible. She understood that, understood that Spike was gone. But she couldn't deny that someone _had_ taken care of her wound, and she meant to find out who. That was why she was here - her wandering had unconsciously brought her to the place that held so many questions and a tiny, itty-bitty sliver of hope.

She was sure it was just wishful thinking. The same wishful thinking that had transformed the crypt into the one Spike had lived in in Sunnydale had transformed the person who aided her into Spike. That was it.

Still, she hesitated in front of the entrance, loath to enter and have her suspicions confirmed. Hope was a rare emotion for her with her type of lifestyle and she wasn't eager to destroy this tiny shred. However, she didn't know which would be worse - knowing that he was still gone, or finding out that he wasn't and that he hadn't even told her…?

But she was the Slayer, and she wasn't going to back down that easily, no matter how destructive the truth could prove to be.

Buffy took a deep breath and strode through the entrance.

…

Footsteps.

Spike raised his head at the sound and inhaled deeply, allowing himself to drown briefly in the scent that he had both been anticipating and dreading at the same time. Buffy. She'd come back for him.

For the last two days, Spike had been in agony. Seeing her again for that brief, tantalizing moment had awakened his barely-buried desires again, and he had been unable to get her off his mind.

Part of him exalted in knowing that she had returned to try and find him. It meant she still cared, that there may still be a place for him in her heart. At the same time, though, he resented the circumstances that had made him reveal himself to her, forcing his hand. The reason he had sought her out was for her own protection, not to drag her back into the whirlwind of emotion that surrounded them whenever they were together. She couldn't afford that kind of distraction, that special kind of darkness he represented.

"Spike?" Buffy's voice called out as her cautious footsteps approached where he was hiding. The sound of his name on her lips nearly made him groan, but he restrained himself with difficulty. "Look, I don't have time to play hide-and-seek."

Though he couldn't see her, Spike could almost _hear_ her put her hands on her hips and it wasn't hard to imagine how she would look - one hip out, steely eyes glaring into the darkness. The mental image made him smile despite his effort to stay stoic.

"In fact, I have _so_ many more important things to do than hang out in a smelly crypt and wait for a twice-dead vampire to stop playing games and come out and talk."

Spike raised an eyebrow in silent irritation. _Smelly crypt? Well sorry if I haven't had time to redecorate and do some spring cleaning._

"Look at me, I'm talking to an empty crypt," he distinctly heard Buffy mutter under her breath. "Maybe Willow's right. Maybe I am working too hard." Then, louder, she added, "I guess I'll just be on my way, then." The sound of footsteps resumed, and then there was silence.

Rolling his eyes, Spike didn't move. Who did she think he was? He wasn't some newly-born vamp who would fall for such a simple trick like that - he knew she was still there. Her scent alone would have alerted him to that fact.

"Fine. You win." This time he could tell that she was actually walking towards the exit and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had been counting on the fact that Buffy would want him to come out himself instead of her searching through every corner of the structure to find him, and his hunch had turned out correctly.

A scream split the silence. Buffy's scream.

Spike was moving before the sound had even cut off, his long black duster billowing out behind him as he dropped from the rafters, landed heavily, and rounded the corner at a desperate sprint. If something had made Buffy scream at that pitch, then it was bad. Bad enough that it scared her, and Spike wouldn't let her face it by…

He spotted Buffy standing by the doorway, a stunned look on her face. But she was looking at him. And there was no evil demon about to suck the life from her.

Spike slowed to a stop a couple feet in front of her. "That was a bloody dirty trick, Slayer," he forced out somehow, although he felt like there was a weight constricting his chest at the sight of her staring at him, hurt written all over her face.

"Spike," she whispered, disbelief colouring her voice. "I'm going to kill you."

He chuckled at her empty threat, born more out of her irritation for him than any desire for violence. "I missed you too, love."

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**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I hope you all are still enjoying reading this, because I'm really enjoying writing it =).**

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"I missed you too, love."

Buffy stared at the vampire in front of her in shock mingled with anger and hurt. How dare he be alive? How dare he put her through all that grief and then just show up, out of the blue, with that killer smile and expect everything to be alright? "You have some explaining to do," she forced herself to say woodenly.

"Guess I do at that," he admitted, a sheepish look in his eyes as he watched her carefully for any sign of happiness on her part.

She didn't give him that satisfaction. Instead, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and stared him down. "You have five minutes." Deep down, Buffy knew that she was acting irrationally, that she was channelling all the grief she had experienced since his 'death' into anger, but it was hard to care. So what if she had wished for this moment every day since the day they had defeated the First's army? Now that it was here, she found it hard to believe that it was really happening, that it wasn't some sort of a trick.

"Buffy," he sighed and stepped towards her, but she flinched back.

"Four minutes, thirty seconds," she continued in an even voice that hid the tempest of emotions she was feeling inside. "And then I'm walking out of here."

"Never do make things easy on a bloke, do you Slayer?" he muttered in resignation, but then gestured to the raised tomb in the center of the small room. "Could we at least sit?"

Buffy considered the offer for a second. There wasn't any harm in sitting, except that it would make the situation that much more normal, more real. As long as she kept her walls up and stayed away, nothing could hurt her again. But it was Spike… "Fine," she answered stiffly as she walked over to sit next to him.

She kept herself guarded, though. He wasn't going to hurt her again - she wouldn't let him get that close.

…

Being near her was torture.

She was sitting within his reach, only inches away really, yet he couldn't touch her. He knew that she wouldn't want him to, anyway - it was written all over her stiff posture and the way that she struggled to look him in the eyes.

"It was that bloody amulet," Spike finally broke the silence between them, glancing sideways at Buffy. "Tried to sacrifice myself for love, honor, and all the right reasons, but-"

"-that's not what I meant," Buffy interrupted his attempt at explanation. Her voice was a little softer now and had lost a bit of the anger that had been present earlier, but he could still tell that she was thoroughly irritated at him. "How long?"

"...how long what?" Spike blinked, confused.

"How long before you were going to tell me?" Buffy swung her legs back and forth and kept her head bowed down so that Spike couldn't see her expression, but he could hear the pain in her voice.

Licking his lips nervously, he considered his response. He could tell that what he said next was very important, but he had no idea what the right answer was. "I wanted to find you," he finally started, his voice full of regret, "but becoming a ghost - I was incorporeal for a while - had some drawbacks. Worse than having a chip, really. Couldn't leave the city at first."

"So you didn't bother to call, send a note, email, anything."

"Thought you'd be better off without me," he replied offhandedly, trying not to show her how much the self-deprecating comment cut him on the inside.

She looked up, her eyes flashing with pain before she hid it behind a steely gaze.

"And besides, it's not terribly dramatic to return after only a few weeks of death. Had to do it right." He was rewarded by her slight, unconscious smile at his teasing words, but she didn't tease him back. "How's the Niblet? And the new Slayers?" he changed the conversation completely, slightly unsettled by the changes in the girl he loved. There was no passion to her - just fatigue. It reminded him of the time she had died and had come back numb, and that scared him more than he cared to admit.

"It's hard," Buffy admitted softly. "Trying to find them, train them, keep them aliv-" her voice cut off suddenly.

"You can't take responsibility for their deaths," Spike knew intuitively that she was thinking about the girls who had died in the final battle in Sunnydale, so he tentatively reached out and touched her arm comfortingly, steeling himself against the flash of hurt as she flinched away before relaxing slightly into his touch. "Nothin' you could've done to save them."

"They _were_ my responsibility. So are these girls. To them, I'm not just Buffy, or even just a Slayer. I'm their leader and I can't afford to make mistakes like I did earlier."

"You're just Buffy to me," Spike whispered before he could stop himself. He knew that what he was doing was wrong - he had been staying away from her for a reason. She deserved better than a lovesick vampire condemned to the shadows. But, somehow, he still felt the same magnetic attraction to her he had felt for so many years, and he knew that he had to be there for her when it seemed like no one else was.

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Spike."

"I mean it, love. You can just be you - you don't have to worry about making mistakes, about getting me killed. After all, I've died twice now and I'm still just as irresistibly attractive as ever." He again tried to lighten the mood, to get her to show some of the passion he had found so captivating, but she just shrugged it off again.

"I really should be getting back - it's getting light outside."

Immediately, disappointment felt like it was going to crush Spike in its merciless grasp. He'd driven her away already? All he had done was try to support her, but he should've known that she would have moved on with her life already. She probably had even found another man, someone worthy of her love. "Buffy?" his slightly desperate plea stopped her as she started to walk away.

She half-turned back to face him and he fancied he saw a spark there, a spark of her former self.

"Is this goodbye?"

…

"Is this goodbye?"

Buffy stared at Spike, stunned that he would even think that. After she had gone to all this trouble to find him, he thought that she wouldn't be coming back? She shook her head firmly. "No, Spike," she replied, sadness colouring her voice at the sight of his insecurity. "This isn't goodbye."

The sight of the uncertain smile on his face made her smile slightly as well. It felt strange - she hadn't been doing much of that since Sunnydale became a giant crater. "So you'll be back tonight? It's been weeks since I've had a decent fight."

Buffy raised an eyebrow as she considered that offer. She had been practicing with some of the new Slayers, but there wasn't even one of them that could match her years of experience. Sparring with Spike sounded...surprisingly good. "I can still take you," she found herself saying, a challenge in her words.

"Like to see you try."

Buffy left the crypt feeling strangely relaxed and excited for that night despite having gotten no sleep. Perhaps there was something to Spike's words - maybe she could just be Buffy with him.

…

Spike couldn't help feeling a little smug. Buffy had missed him - he could tell in the way his offer to spar with her had triggered a spark of competition that he was willing to bet she had been missing.

He knew that rebuilding trust, rebuilding any type of a relationship with her was going to take time after all that had happened and all that had been said. They was so much they had to talk about, but right now it was enough that they were talking. Spike knew that resuming a romantic relationship with her was impossible - she needed someone without such a bloody past. But at least he could honour his love for her through his friendship and support.

And he was going to bring back that fire in her eyes.

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**Please review! And look forward to the sparring scene next chapter =).**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry it's been forever...life gets busy sometimes! But enjoy anyway =)**

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Spike hit the ground hard.

"Told you I-" Buffy started to say tauntingly, but Spike arched his back and then pushed off from his shoulders, the moment sending him smoothly to his feet a couple feet in front of the Slayer.

"Not bad," Spike inclined his head in Buffy's direction, unable to stop the small smirk from forming on his lips. "Learned a few tricks since last time, eh pet?"

"You haven't seen anything yet," Buffy told him as they circled each other, each of them warily watching for any opening to make a move. "I could take you with one arm tied behind my back."

Spike quirked one eyebrow at her confidence. "And yet," he gestured to himself, "I'm still standing."

"Not for long," she threatened, a playful glint in her eyes that he hadn't seen since his return. Or before that, really. With the life she had led recently, there hadn't been much time for her to relax and just have fun, to not have to hold back anything.

"Ooh, I'm quaking inside," Spike continued the banter, enjoying himself more than he would ever admit. "So much talk and so little-"

"Fight?" Buffy sprang forward and landed a solid punch on his jaw before he could dodge, the impact throwing him backwards and into a tombstone.

He pushed himself up immediately, touching one thumb to the trail of blood he felt oozing from his split lip, but never taking his eyes off of Buffy. "Takes more than that to knock me down - you should've followed up while I was down," he advised.

"Now who's all talky?" she asked innocently, easily swaying out of the way of his hasty attack and delivering a solid kick to the backs of his knees, causing them to buckle.

Growling ferally, Spike shot to his feet and shook his head, trying to shake away all thoughts of how beautiful and passionate and _alive_ Buffy looked when she was sparring with him. He didn't have time for that, not if he was going to start putting up a half-decent fight.

Without a word, he ducked under her fist as she attacked and felt his elbow connect with her rib cage, sending her tumbling backwards onto the uneven ground. Without waiting for her to recover, Spike pressed his advantage and pounced, only to meet both her feet against his stomach, throwing him over her head before he could land on top of her. "Bloody-" he started to say, but the impact against the ground forced the air out of his lungs in a whoosh. Groaning, he forced himself to roll into a crouch and scan around for Buffy. "This isn't hide-and-seek, pet," he taunted.

He heard her before he saw her - the slightest of scrapes as she brushed against a tombstone, a sound that only his vampire-enhanced hearing could have picked up. Then, instinct told him to duck, and he obeyed it immediately, but also raised his arms over his head and caught Buffy's arm as it sailed over his head. Using his grip to send her flying over his shoulder, he grinned in satisfaction as she hit the ground and rolled to her feet in one smooth motion. "Nice try," she panted, her parted lips distracting him for a second before he sternly forced his attention back to the fight, "but _so_ many vamps have used that one on me."

"And you still fall for it?" Spike asked incredulously. "Now love, that's no way to-"

Buffy charged and he was forced to dodge so that her kick glanced off his side instead of landing squarely in his stomach. He then used her momentum and his strength to throw her a couple feet in front of him.

She stayed down where he had thrown her, but rolled onto her back so that she could watch him saunter closer. In her eyes was a clear challenge - try it again. She was ready for him; he could tell by the way her leg muscles tightened, ready to lift up and throw him if he was stupid enough to try the same ploy again.

"What's wrong, Spike?" she asked. "Too scared?"

He chuckled, still busy analyzing the best way to attack. Her position was inviting - it would be so easy to fall exactly into the same trap he had fallen into earlier in the same fight, but he refused to be beaten that easily.

Making up his mind, he leapt at her and saw her raise her legs to brace herself against the impact she knew was coming. However, at the last second, he twisted his body and threw himself to the side, landing on the ground next to her and then propelling himself so that his torso was on top of her, firmly holding her down. Then, ever so lightly, he pressed his non-vampire teeth against the exposed flesh of her neck. "Dead," he muttered against her skin, feeling her shiver beneath him at his breath on her neck.

"You cheated," she breathed, squirming beneath him.  
"All's fair in love and war, ain't it?" he returned, lifting himself up enough so that he could look Buffy in the eyes.

"And which one is this?" she asked, and he was struck by the sudden serious, sad note in her voice.

"Does it matter?" he responded immediately. "A bit of both, I'd imagine."

"And so where does that leave us? Friends? Lovers? Mortal enemies? The lines...they are more blurry than they've ever been before. And being in charge, leading everyone...it's too much."

Spike figured out pretty quickly that she wasn't talking just about their...whatever it was they had anymore. With more than a tinge of regret, he rolled off of her and pulled himself to his feet, holding out a hand to help Buffy up. To his surprise, she accepted his help. "It's not to much," he told her sternly, "because you can take it. You've taken everything that's been thrown at you and risen above it." Despite knowing that he should release her hand, his traitorous desire instead drew her closer until she was wrapped in his arms. She didn't even protest.

"This time's different," she mumbled into his leather duster, relaxing against him.

"Every time's different, love." Spike rested his chin on top of her silky hair, taking a deep breath of the scent that was just so uniquely _her_. "Might as well embrace it."

"I'm still mad at you," she changed the subject suddenly, leaning back so that she was looking up at him. "for dying. And then for not telling me that you weren't actually dead."

"Won't happen again," he assured her. "Dying twice is more than enough for a bloke."

"Agreed," she responded, but there was a far-away look in her eyes that spoke volumes about what she wasn't saying.

"What is it, pet?" he found himself asking automatically. He unconsciously tightened his grip around her waist, nervous that the distance in her gaze would cause her to pull away. He wasn't ready for that yet - he wanted to bask in the feeling of holding her in his arms once again.

"There's just...just so much we didn't get to say," she whispered.

"There's still time," he grinned, brushing a thumb lightly against her cheek in a feather-soft caress.

"Then let's make the most of it?" There was a vulnerability in those words that Spike had never seen before in Buffy, a fear of running out of time, of being alone again. That, more than anything else she could have said, cemented his decision to stay, at least for a little while longer. He couldn't abandon her until she was herself again - that was what he had promised, after all.

Before he realized what was happening, Buffy's lips were pressed against his and suddenly all thoughts fled from his mind as he abandoned himself fully to the kiss he had been longing for for so long.

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**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay, guys, this will be the last chapter of this story. It was just meant as a drabble to show Buffy and Spike developing an emotional connection after everything that happened between them, so I hope it succeeded!**

**Please please please review?**

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Buffy's eyes flew open and she sat up with a start as the events of last night returned to her all at once.

Fighting. Taunting. Kissing. _Kissing_.

It was the one thing she hadn't wanted to do. Well, being completely honest with herself, Buffy had to admit that it was actually the one thing she had wanted to do the most since she had discovered his presence. But the words she'd spoken to Spike during their sparring match returned, surprising her with their accuracy:

_And so where does that leave us? Friends? Lovers? Mortal enemies?_

She didn't have an answer for that, and the lines seemed even more blurred than before, especially after she'd kissed him. And boy, what a kiss that'd been - full of all the passion of their previous relationship (if she could call it that) but sweetened by the new emotional connection they'd somehow started to develop ever since he won his soul.

With a groan of pain, Buffy rolled herself off her bed, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles and trying to ignore the purply bruises on her skin that represented the places where Spike had got a good punch in. It had been far too long since she'd had a decent spar and her body wasn't adapted to the aftereffects yet. Still, she found herself smiling as she thought back on the fight, replaying her biggest triumphs and most embarrassing mistakes. Her only consolation on losing, aside from the feeling of his body on top of hers as he'd pretended to bite her, was that he'd probably be feeling even worse this morning since she'd certainly landed some solid blows on him as well.

_There's just...just so much we didn't get to say…_

Those words returned to her as well, expressing a sentiment she hadn't realized she was feeling. With all the time and effort she was putting in to the Slayer Organization, she had pushed all thoughts of Spike, of mourning, aside. But seeing him again had brought them up, and now she realized that there was too much left unsaid between them.

She'd told him she loved him.

He hadn't believed her.

That had to change.

…

Spike half-closed his eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in from the narrow windows and carefully skirted the skinny rectangles they projected onto the ground. He was sore enough today without adding second-degree burns to his list of problems.

Buffy had asked him not to leave. And had kissed him. And then had left without another word, her eyes growing wide as she'd backed away.

It'd hurt more than he cared to admit.

"Bloody woman," he muttered under his breath, keeping a wary eye on the patches of sunlight. "First she can't stand me, then she still can't stand me, then she loves me, and now...argh!" He viciously kicked the tomb in the center of the room and then cursed at the throbbing pain in his foot. "Sure wish she'd figure out what she wants."

Sighing, he leaned up against the tomb and stared at the closed door, half-wishing it would open and she would be there, eyes blazing with passion and then he would take her in his arms and…

The door banged open.

Immediately, Spike dove for cover as the full force of the sun hit the exposed skin of his face and arms. As fast as he was,there was still an unmistakable hissing sound followed by the smell of burning flesh.

"Had to make an entrance, didn' you?" he demanded with a groan, levering himself up off the ground with his elbow. He inspected his arm and felt over his face and relieved to see that the skin, while warmer than normal, hadn't ignited in the brief exposure.

"Sorry," Buffy appeared in the doorway, a contrite expression on her face. "But really? You sit directly in front of the door on a bright sunny morning, just waiting for someone to open the door and then... poof?" She mimed a little explosion with her hands.

"Nevermind what I was doing," he propelled himself to his feet. "Whatcha want, Slayer?" He knew he was being hostile, but he couldn't help himself. For a moment, a tiny little moment, he'd believed that there could possibly be a future for them together, but then she'd shattered his dreams yet again. The Slayer was a beacon of light; he was a creature of darkness. He'd been deluding himself. Again.

"To talk."

"Talk." He stared at her incredulously. "Wastin' your breath, pet. You made yourself plenty clear runnin' off last night."

"Spike, I'm sorry." She stepped towards him, holding out a hand. "I was confused and...and it was the moment...and I shouldn't have-"

"Got it," Spike cut her off, turning away so he wouldn't have to face her. "Shouldn't have kissed me." As he said the words, he felt a painful wrenching inside as he finally admitted out loud that moment was just a fluke, not her hoping to be with him.

"Have you always been this stupid?"

Spike closed his eyes and sighed. Great. Now they were going to fight. "Can we not, love? Not really up to arguin' today." He stayed back in the shadows, far away from Buffy, who was wreathed in bright sunlight. It seemed symbolic to him - he couldn't reach her, couldn't touch her, even if he'd tried.

"Look, Spike," Buffy continued despite his protests, "I didn't ask for this. Like, never. I mean, you're a moody vampire with an obsession for black t-shirts."

Spike whirled around and glared at her, refusing to rise to her bait.

"And you...you smoke. It's disgusting. And unhealthy."

"It's not like I need my lungs…" he muttered under his breath.

"Not to mention the fact that you've tried to _kill_ me and my friends more times than I can count."

"To be fair, we were mortal enemies," he reminded her, starting to get annoyed. Why had Buffy even bother coming if all she was going to do was stand there and insult him?

"And the hair! Don't even get me started on the hair!"

"What's wrong with my hair?" he demanded indignantly.

"It's blonder than mine," she placed her hands on her hips, "and it looks fake."

"Like those locks are natural," he shot back, gesturing at her hair. "And like you're so great. Always the mighty Slayer with the high moral ground...but you're...you're bossy!" He stabbed an accusing finger at her.

"You're vain!"

"Says you? That's rich coming from Miss I-can't-fight-demons-without-a-stylish-outfit."

Spike suddenly realized that he was standing only inches away from Buffy - somehow they had both unconsciously moved closer towards each other with every heated word. The temptation to kiss her was nearly overwhelming, despite how irritating she was being.

"Just because I'm the Slayer doesn't mean I have to dress like...you know what, forget it. I didn't come here to fight." She looked up at him, and there was something in her eyes, something that made him forget his annoyance. He'd seen that look before - the fire, the passion. This was his Buffy, the woman he'd fallen in love with so long ago.

"Couldn't tell," he chuckled humourlessly.

"I mean it," she insisted. "Despite...well, everything, you looked after Dawn after I...you know. And you helped the Scoobies, and you saved my life a couple of times, and that was before you even went all soully."

Spike's heart leapt in his chest with nervous anticipation. It sounded like she was...but it was impossible. Still, he couldn't help but hope.

"And I never told you this," reaching out, she placed a hand on his chest and he sucked in a breath at the touch, "but it means a lot to me that you won your soul for me. Because of me. Because you were in love with me."

"Am," he corrected her, looking deep into her eyes. "Because I _am_ in love with you."

A slight smile spread across her face. "Remember that one time when you sacrificed yourself to save the world?" she asked, leaning in tantalizingly close.

He couldn't respond, or even think clearly, with her that close to him.

"I told you something, and you didn't believe me."

_I love you._

_No, you don't. But thanks for sayin' it._

The moment rose up, and for a moment, Spike relived it - the pain of dying slowly so insignificant next to the agony of leaving the woman he loved, even if she didn't love him back. But still, she was there for him, telling him what he needed to hear in the moment of his sacrifice. And it was worth it. The pain, the dying, all of it. It was worth it for her.

"How could I forget?" he whispered, his fingers rising and tangling in her hair of their own accord. She didn't pull away.

"It was true. I love you, William. Despite all the reasons I shouldn't, I still do."

At the sound of his name - his real name - Spike felt warmth rush through his undead body. "You're not just sayin' that?" He couldn't help the real vulnerability in his tone.

"I love you," she repeated earnestly, looking deep into his eyes. He could see the truth, the passion in hers that convinced him even more than anything she could say.

"Fangs an' all?"

"Fangs, hair, cigarettes, everything." She wrinkled her nose cutely. "Well, maybe you could cut out the smok-"

Spike cut her off by covering her lips with his and snaking his arms around her waist until she was pressed tightly up against his body.

"You drive me bleedin' crazy," he growled, his voice rough with all the happiness he was suppressing. "But I love you too, Buffy, an' always will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

**Please leave a final review to let me know what you thought!**

**~Caitlin51**


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